Son of the Squib
by Umodin
Summary: You know, when I died I accepted it. I didn't necessarily live a good life, but I lived my life well. When I was reborn into the Harry Potter world, and I only watched those movies because Emma Watson is a goddess, I will admit that I was - okay, I only really thought about one thing. Learn the imperius curse and steal all of Donald Trumps money. OC-Self Insert
1. I

**Prologue**

* * *

 _First Person: Fin_

* * *

I never wanted to be reborn.

When I died, at the age of eighteen mind you, I understood that I was doing my duty. I took a smattering of bullets for my friend when I was deployed in the US army. There was no greater death in my family, to die in service was the only _good_ death there was as my mother always told me and my sister when she spoke of my father. I should add that she spoke of my father like this because he ran out on her when he won a small lottery and she wants his head on a spike.

Looking back, I wish I'd never heard that piece of wisdom come from my mothers mouth. I don't regret my death, don't make that mistake, but to die so young during my first deployment… Well, that's about as depressing as you can get short of a tragedy.

When I was shot, five times mind you, I expected to die. It wasn't like there was any meds nearby; it was a battlefield for Christ's sake. When I was bleeding out I actually looked forward to death. I was in too much pain to be scared. I wondered what there was past my death, would I just return to nothing? Would I be judged for my actions in life? I didn't know, but it's wasn't like I had any other plans.

I closed my eyes for what I believed to be the final time in my life and let out one last breath.

And then I opened them again, which _should have been impossible._

At first I thought that, somehow, I was miraculously saved. I awoke in a hospital, my body felt numb so I had to have been heavily sedated.

It was the only thing that made sense.

And then all sense was thrown out the window when a pair of hands the size of my torso picked me up.

I was swotted down with a few towels, I noticed deep blood stained them after I was cleaned, and after a doctor with an English accent said I was clean I was handed over to a woman that I had never met before in my life.

She cooed at me, tickled at my nose and promptly fell asleep.

I will not say I am smart, if I was smart I wouldn't have dropped out of high school. However, I was quick on the uptake, and while it seemed impossible I did understand that this was not some kind of dream.

And so, I did the one thing I could.

I screamed like a little bitch.

* * *

Phineus. Phineus Marius Black. That was my new name. Born the 1st of April 1966, which I suppose made sense since this entire situation was a joke in itself. That was nearly thirty years earlier than when I had been born originally; 1994. Nearly fifty years before I was killed.

I was born before my parents were a thought in my grandparents mind.

Damn was that weird.

Still, _Phineus?!_

It's like my new parents _wanted_ me to be bullied in school and damn I was going to school again wasn't I?

...

Maybe I should invest in Apple.

* * *

A/N: So. That happened. I will be blunt, this is not a serious story. Nor is it a Sirius story. It was just a short little thing that came to me randomly when I was nomming on some eggs and I decided to just post it and see what happens.

Meh.

I like messing around with my stories, the less serious I make them the more I enjoy writing them and the more likely I am to update my stuff. I understand people generally don't care for Self Inserts and OC's in Harry Potter because the whole books are based off of a singular hero.

Well, screw that.

I enjoy writing OC's and Self Inserts. Harry is a great character, and I don't want to mess with a good thing. Which is why I like to do my own thing using the worlds that my favorite authors create.

In this case, Phineus Black, who will be known as Fin, is the only son of Marius Black, the disgraced squib of the Black family. Marius Black is an older dude, I think he was born in 1915, so Fin was a surprise for him.

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	2. II

_First Person: Fin_

* * *

So.

Harry Potter.

I- I don't really know how to deal with this, but I'm pretty sure that I'm in the Harry Potter world.

Why, might you ask?

Because my _hair keeps changing colors._

Oh I remember that bit in the movies. I may not remember much of the plots because I was checking out the goddess that is called Emma Watson for the majority of films past the third one, but I remembered the interesting stuff. Like that one girl, uh…

Um…

Pinky. I know that's not her name, but it's all I can remember.

I remember some chick with pink hair that kept changing it to different colors and growing a duckbill. It was weird in a cutesy way, but I do recall that in particular since it was pretty damn awesome in my book.

I really wish I read the books now…

Anyways, I got some pretty hard hitting evidence about me being in the Harry Potter world when my hair started changing colors. Green and blue and brown – my natural hair color – and so on and so forth. My dad was pretty happy about it, kept egging me to change more colors.

That was another thing to get used to, having a dad and not having a mom; though it does make me feel better. I don't want a second mom, my first was plenty, but having a dad is an interesting experience.

As it turns out, when I was three, and I'm five now I should add, I overheard my dad talking to the woman that was my mom. They didn't hide their conversation, nobody would expect a three year old to understand their words, and instead just kept their tones level.

Heh, not my problem.

So, to put it bluntly I was an accident. My parents weren't even in a proper relationship; they just worked at the same company and had a night of drunken humping. They tried to make it work, but in the end it was decided that dad would take care of me for the most part and she would chip in.

But, in the end she just up and left, and now it's just me and dad. Not a terribly big deal, he had a steady construction job and was able to send me to a primary school. It was just difficult.

And then my hair started changing colors.

Which is why today he took a day off and was taking me to some place called the Leaky Cauldron to meet up with his sister, my aunt. I recognize the name of the shop vaguely, but I really don't remember too much.

I _really_ should have paid more attention to the story and not Hermione's cleavage.

* * *

 _Third Person: Dorea_

* * *

It had been many years since Dorea Potter nee Black had heard from her family. Her decision to accept Charlus Potter's courtship had not gone over well with her kin, the Black family believed his family to be filled with only blood traitors. Still, she didn't much care – she lost any interest in the Black family when they banished her beloved older brother just for being a squib.

 _So what_ if he couldn't use proper magic? He could still make potions, tend herbs, work with magical creatures and be involved in many other duties that didn't involve a wand.

No, Dorea Potter did not care much for her lack of contact with her family.

So when she received a letter from her squib brother Marius on November 1st 1971, her first form of communication with her brother in _fourty six_ years, informing her that his son was a metamorphmagus…

Well, after knocking her brother upside the head for ignoring her for so long she'd properly spoil her nephew rotten.

So, here she was, sitting in one of the many open booths of the Leaky Cauldron on the afternoon of the third. Her days were fairly open, Jamie was at Hogwarts and Charlus was at the Ministry, and while she had no complaints about her position as a housewife she would be the first to admit it was a dull affair when there was nobody in the house.

Her eyes caught sight of the door to the Leaky Cauldron opening from the entrance to muggle London. There he was, her brother Marius holding a small child on his shoulders. He'd grown old, she noted with some morbid humor. His black hair had turned a dull grey, his skin became leathery and wrinkled, but the smile on his face when he saw her reminded her of their younger days.

His son, however, was almost as adorable as her Jamie was at that age. Though to be fair, in her mind none could be cuter than Jamie when he was five. Phineus had a smattering of bright blue hair, pale skin and his father's grey eyes.

"Dorea!" Marius cried out, and embraced her happily. Phineus, who was riding on his shoulders, had an uncomfortable look on his face as his legs squished into her body.

"Marius." Dorea calmly replied, accepting the hug but not returning it.

"How long has it been, sis? Nearly fifty years I think, aye."

"Fifty six."

"Well, the years have been far kinder to you than they've been to me." His eyes twinkled as he spoke, and Dorea allowed a small smile to creep onto her face. It was true, though she was in her fifties she didn't look a day past her thirties.

"Oh! And this is Phineus." Marius said, reaching over his back and bringing the boy onto the floor.

Dorea smiled warmly at the boy, and couldn't help but let out a small giggle when he petulantly exclaimed, "Call me Fin."

She bent down and patted her nephew atop his head, his hair changing from blue to purple. "It's nice to meet you Fin."

The Black duo found themselves shuffled into her booth and chatted idly. Seeing firsthand the ability that Phineus had astounded her; there hadn't been a metamorphmagus in the Black family for nearly a century.

The fact that it came from the seed of a banished squib was a particularly dark bit of humor that both she and Marius found amusing.

"So," Marius said. They'd been chatting idly for some thirty minutes, catching up and telling stories of their respective sons. "I was hoping you could help me with some things."

Dorea rose an eyebrow, this was what she was waiting for. She loved Marius, there was no need to embellish a simple fact such as that, but it _had_ been nearly half a century since they last spoke. It didn't make sense for him to simply want to speak with her after so long, he had to have had need of something.

"And those things would be?"

"Could you give Phineus his pre-magical education?"

She blinked, not expecting such a blunt question from her brother. It was a fair question in her mind, him being a squib meant he didn't know how to help his magical son with his education.

Perhaps this could also relieve her of her boredom, for a time at least.

"Alright."

"Alright? Alright!" Marius exclaimed, a smile on his weathered face.

"But, I have a condition."

Marius groaned, "Which is…"

"You and Fin will move into Potter Manor. Charlus and me have always wanted another child in the house, and who better than my nephew?"

Marius stilled for a moment before smiling widely.

"I think we can work with that, lil sis."

* * *

A/N: So…

Yeah.

Normally I don't double update, or at least not this quickly. But I'm a bad boy. I start my new job tomorrow and while my computer is downloading the clients that I need for it, which I should have downloaded weeks ago, I can't use my internet. My comps a little wonky like that.

So to kill time, I just wrote this up lickity split.

Here's how this is gunna go down. I mentioned this is a Self Insert, but there's no way I'd _actually_ insert myself into one of my stories. I do not have a conscious enough grasp of who I am and what I would actually do in these situations for me to be comfortable doing that.

No, in this case I added bits and pieces into my personality into my Self Inserts. Phineus Black is based off of me prior to starting college. I didn't read the Harry Potter books until my first semester, and even then I only watched the movies because I had a huge crush on Emma Watson growing up. I never really paid too much attention to the plots or what was going on with Harry, and only after my cousins forced me to binge watch the series for realzies did I get hooked.

Since Harry Potter encompasses so many characters, I'll be doing perspectives from all around. I will primarily be using Fin as the first person perspective, but every now and then I'll add a third person perspective for a character.

This has nothing to do with the story, but I've been having problems with Fanfiction. For some reason, I can't read any new reviews. I sent an email to the website but haven't gotten a reply, so if you guys have any tips for how to fix this send me a PM.

If you liked this please Favorite/Follow and don't forget to Review.


	3. III

_First Person: Fin_

* * *

James Potter is a cunt.

I don't care if he is eleven years old, no other word or phrase summarizes him quite so well in my book.

See, me and pops had been living at Potter Manor for about six weeks now, and it was pretty cool. Aunt Dorea really hooked us up, and Uncle Charlus was pretty happy that he had somebody to drink with.

It was a little weird to see me pops acting like a fool with my uncle by law, but both me and Aunt Dorea had a good laugh or twenty at their expense.

Anyways, when Winter Break came along, I learned that my cousin James would be coming home from Hogwarts to celebrate. Made sense, and I was honestly looking forward to it. My mom was an only child, so it was just me and my half-sister, and I'd always been a little curious about larger families.

The very first thing James Potter did to me was throw a dungbomb in my face.

Oh sure, it was an accident. He went through the floo while he was holding the dungbomb and tripped, fell flat on his face and lost his grip on the dungbomb and lobbed it as far away from him without paying attention to where it was going.

Which was where I was standing.

He can apologize all he wants, but if my mom taught me anything from her job as a teacher it was that children could hold a grudge like nobody else.

And I am proud to say I'm a child now.

I sniffled, my eyes watered because _damn does that stink_ , and I let out a pitiful scream that echoed through the halls of Potter Manor.

It may have been a little shitty, but the scolding James Potter got was music to my ears.

* * *

When Winter Break ended, and by that time me and James were much more amicable with each other than we were in the beginning, Aunt Dorea told me It was time to start my pre-magical education.

I admit to being excited.

And then I was terribly bored.

Pre-magical education is essentially an _extremely_ slow paced yoga school with some useless history in the mix. I am taught history in the morning, because I obviously want to know how wizards fucked over the rest of the world and somehow it was their fault. Potions and herbs in the afternoon, since I _obviously_ need to learn proper feng shui. And meditation in the evening, which is essentially a nap time.

And, since I'm five, I'm not allowed into the library. Normally I would avoid a library at all costs, but this is a world of _magic_. I can be dumb, but i'm not gunna compare the schooling of Hogwarts to a damned math class.

This is going to be a long, _long_ , five years.

* * *

 _One year later_

Essentially nothing has changed. Though, after a while Aunt Dorea picked up the pace on history, potions and herbs when she realized how bored I was. It took me a fair bit of time to remember that children learn at a different pace than adults do, and that most children don't have the minds of adults.

Winter Break was pretty cool though, I got to meet Sirius Black. He was more surprised than anything that there was a Black squib; apparently his mom hid that fact as hard as she could. Still, he was a pretty cool guy. Always happy to talk with his and James' "ickle little cousin" about their exploits in school and what I should be prepared for when Hogwarts starts up.

He also couldn't stop laughing when he learned that a squib had brought a Metamorphmagus into the world with a muggle.

* * *

 _Two years later_

I'm doing something new now.

Hooray~.

Sarcasm, if you haven't figured that out.

When I say I'm doing something new, it's that pops figured out that I was bored of my lessons and decided to send me to primary school.

It absolutely sucks.

But, I can't help but think it's hilarious to crack dirty jokes in the middle of class in front of my milf teacher Mrs. Henders. It's great when she turns red when I open my mouth, especially when my fellow students don't understand what I'm saying so she has no choice but to keep quiet until after class, since she doesn't want to have to teach a bunch of kiddies the birds and the bees.

Aunt Dorea puts me over her knee every time I do it, but pops and Uncle Charlus think it's hilarious.

Aside from that, I was finally given access to the Potter library. My boredom was so great that I was actually willing to read text books.

Coming from a high school dropout, that's something.

I was pleasantly surprised to find out that, no, magical libraries do not host purely magical books. I found some good novels and stuff, along with some magical books.

Even if i'm not allowed to use a wand, learning the requirements and details of spells is better than napping.

* * *

 _Three years later_

I'm _actually_ doing something new this time around.

Namely learning how to abuse the shit out of being a Metamorphmagus.

It's a skill you have to be born with, yes, but it's also one that needs to be trained up in order to do anything useful with. I was allowed to change the color of my hair, eyes and skin without any fuss. But I was never allowed to test the limits of the ability. There's a good reason for this, every magic, be it learned or natural, has a consequence. It could be superficial like Parseltongue, in which the consequence is for people to be scared as hell at you, but in the case of a Metamorphmagus it's a good bit steeper. You need the form you take and the form you were born with firmly in mind when morphing, otherwise you'll be stuck inbetween.

The last person that didn't prepare properly and was a metamorph lived out the rest of his life with a beak.

However, now that I am eight years old, I am apparently old enough to learn how to train my ability.

It requires both natural talent and learned skills. Morphing is based entirely off emotions, and in order to specify what I want to become I need to envision the form, constantly keep calm and never lose focus on what the form looks like.

Which is why I am _finally_ being taught magic, namely the Mind Arts.

There are four major mind arts, three mind based and one wand based. Legillimency, Occlumency, Augeomency and Obliviation. Legillimency was the act of reading the minds of others, Occlumency was the act of shielding the mind and controlling emotions, Augeomency was the act of increasing memory and disciplining the mind, and Obliviation was the removal or destruction of memory.

I was learning Occlumency and Augeomency. I needed Occlumency in order to stay calm during my morphs while Augeomeny would help me multitask and focus on the form I am using or intend to use.

This is a solid five times more complicated than anything I've been taught here.

Good thing I've got another three years till Hogwarts.

Right?

* * *

 _Four years later_

Occlumency is a bitch and a half to learn.

There are two main ways to learn it. One, you have somebody use Legillimency on you and Occlumency shields will be formed out of personal desperation, because when you're aware of a Legillimency attack it hurts like a bitch. The other is meditation. It's far slower and takes more effort, but the shields are apparently far stronger than Legillimency induced shields.

I was given the option to learn Occlumency through Legillimency, but I decided against it. I didn't want to run the risk of somebody learning about what happened before I was Fin Black, even if that somebody was Aunt Dorea.

The point, however, is that Occlumency takes a while to learn, especially for children. Nobody particularly expected me to get it down quickly.

While Occlumency was a pain, Augeomency was my shiz.

It's both harder and easier to learn that Occlumency because the only way to learn it is through meditation. You need to focus all of your attention on _retaining_ informing, not learning it; something barely anybody does.

Meditation is what I've been forced to do for the past four years.

Well, two years. I spent half of my meditation hours taking a nap. But the point is that I know how to meditate all proper.

And Augeomency was something I had a personal desire to learn.

I have always had difficulty learning. I admit to being a pretty dumb kid growing up, and while I may be considered smart now, that's only because I already know more than most children should and retain information differently. But, when it comes to new subjects, I have always been a slow learner. It's something I've been embarrassed about for the whole of my life. It's the main reason why I joined the army; nobody cares much if you know biology there.

Augeomency was the answer to all of my problems. The ability to retain information and discipline the mind so that it knows what information is relevant to learn.

It took me a bit, but it was my focus. When I was being taught about how certain herbs act around each other? _Remember reactions._ When I was being lectured on historical figures? _Remember what Herpo the Foul did._

I focused all my lessons into learning Augeomency, all my outings into the Potter library blaring the mindset Augeomency requires while I read book after book; praying that I would retain this information. My dedication to the skill paid off, and I can proudly say that I retain the information I learn better than the average American millenial.

I am well aware that that is not exactly something to be proud of.

* * *

 _Five years later_

On my tenth birthday I was given a practice wand.

It's a little stick that has all of the first and second year spells programmed into it.

With it, I began the last bits of my lessons; wand movements and what they do and mean.

The reason that Hogwarts teaches these spells is so that Muggleborns and Halfbloods like myself that didn't grow up with magic could catch up. Purebloods and other Halfbloods tended to use this time to develop their interests in magic further.

What was the difference between a swish and flick? What would happen if I jabbed my wand instead of twisted my wrist? Questions like that were answered the hard way.

Magic is _dangerous._

I've always known in the back of my mind that it was, but I had always presumed that it was only volatile if I were on the other end of somebody's wand. I did not expect that when I performed the wrong wand movement on a simple _Wingardium Leviosa_ that I would be the one floating. And since I didn't have a target for my wand I just fell.

Broke my ankle.

It was fixed the next day.

Magic is dangerous, but _oh so awesome._ Really glad I was bored in a place with a big ass library, those books helped me out more than I expected they would outside of staving off boredom.

Mmmm… Aside from that I finally was able to form some decent Occlumency shields. Aunt Dorea tested them and gave me the okay to experiment on my morphing without guidance.

In thanks, I took the form of a ten year old James Potter for a week, and damn did I have fun messing with her in that form.

I also got the chance to meet James' other friends, Remus and Peter. Now, since I learned both Augeomency and Occlumency, I was able to focus on my memories of the Harry Potter movies, and while they themselves aren't _perfect_ I did remember a majority of what happened in them.

Including the fact that Peter Pettigrew betrayed the Potters.

Well… I wasn't exactly sure what to do or say about that. On one hand, if I said anything then I would either be labelled a liar or a Seer, neither were things I wanted to be known as. A liar in the world James Potter was the equivalent of a very uncomfortable summer. A Seer in the eyes of Britain was a tool that had no purpose aside from telling riddles.

Plus, I'm not exactly a good person. Bit self-deprecating, true, but I already gave my life doing a good deed once before; I have no interest in doing the same once more. I'll be happy to help out from time to time, but if it's something that can cost me my life?

Nope.

So, I just flat out told James that I thought Peter looked like a fat rat and that I didn't like him. I am a kid, I am allowed to act like a kid. He just busted a gut with Sirius and Remus while Peter looked like a particularly twitchy vermin.

I also showed them what James looked like as a kid, and while James whined at me to stop making him look bad in front of his friends, they unanimously decided to try and make me a Gryffindor.

Ever had four fifteen year old boys sneak into your room at night, whisper into your ear "Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor!" while you're asleep?

I have.

* * *

 _Six years later_

I couldn't help but grin when my Hogwarts letter _finally_ came. We went to Diagon Alley the very next day, picked up my supplies and got me a proper wand. Oak and dragons heart-string, 10 inches, unyielding.

No idea what any of that means, but _I got a wand!_

Aside from that, I was also given James' owl, Brax. The reason I was given Brax was because James hated the owl, and the owl tolerated me far better than he did James.

Win win.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express was pretty damn awesome.

The ride, not so much.

I sat in a compartment with some dude named Kingsley Shacklebolt. Black guy with a bit of a big nose and a lazy eye. Nice enough kid.

That wasn't the reason I didn't like the ride.

It was the fact that, with James being Head boy, his merry band of marauders had nobody else to bother. Once they found our compartment they just wouldn't leave.

True I prefer the company of them due to their being older, but still. Kingsley had had enough of them after only five minutes and left to find another compartment.

And thus, my torture was increased.

* * *

"Black, Phineus!" Professor McGonagall called out.

"The names Fin!" I stated as loudly as I could without it being a petulant whine. I walked up to the Sorting Hat, ignoring the snickers coming from the hall. Upon sitting down on the stool, she placed the ragged little cloth strip of-

 _Will you quite that?_

Forgot the hat could read minds.

 _Then you're an idiot._

Never knew the hat was a cunt.

 _Never knew children could host the soul of an adult._

We both learned something new that day.

 _Yes, now calm your thoughts and let me take a look._

You gunna rat me out?

 _Would if I could, but I can't so I won't. That bitch Helga didn't like me snitching._

There's a reason you are only called out once a year, isn't there?

 _Yes, actually. But, my language is not the reason. I was enchanted by the founders. Godric supplied the power, Rowena the ability to peruse thoughts, Helga the duty of doing my job right, and Salazar my personality._

What's that have to do with anything?

 _I can't let loose on children, now can I?_

The peoples of the Great Hall likely found themselves baffled when I broke out in laughter.

 _Yes, yes, now shut up you twat. Let's see here… Ravenclaw wouldn't suit you, you only read when it suits you and don't much care for knowledge outside of your muses. The knowledge you have at the moment, while excessive, was only learned due to your obsessive desire to master Augeomency. Slytherin would be acceptable, as would Gryffindor, but the hard work you put into your studies prove you are meant to be in_ "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Professor McGonagall swiped the hat off of my head, and as I heard the marauders bemoan my going into the House of Loyalty I allowed my magic to change me.

My black hair gave off a myriad of colors before settling back on black, this time with yellow scattered all about. I changed my eyes as well so that one was black and the other was yellow.

Hufflepuff roared out in approval, and I found myself blowing a raspberry at the visage of James Potter, who was crying pitifully with Sirius and whining about how they lost their "ickle little cousin to the duffers!"

Life was good.

* * *

A/N: So, that was my attempt at a super summary.

Not a very good one, but I didn't put _too_ much effort into this chapter either.

You may have noticed that Fin has a potty mouth. He's based off of me, and I have no filter, so I figured why should I bother with one here?

So, Hufflepuff. To be honest I myself am a duffer according to the interwebs. I am not smart enough to be a Ravenclaw, nor am I sly enough to pass in Slytherin. I could have been a Gryffindor, but c'mon, why would I want to be in the thick of the Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry during a war?

Not me.

Even when Fin blatantly shows the world that he's a Metamorphmagus, the fact that he's in Hufflepuff puts him outside of their radar. He's not a threat, and while he might be interesting it's only in passing.

Hufflepuff, House of the Ignorable.

DUFFERS UNITE!

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